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FROM   THE   LIBRARY   OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


DM«tei|    VSCB 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/hyfablesOOfoll 


-pVOFP^ 


v 


^: 


HYMNS 


^ 


APR  27 1935 


- 


SONGS,   AND   FABLES, 


FO  R 


YOUNG    PEOPLE 


ELIZA    LEE    FOLLEN 


REVISED   AND   ENLARGED   FROM  THE  LAST  EDITION. 


BOSTON: 
WM.  CROSBY  AA'D  H.  P.  NICHOLS, 

113  Washington  Street. 

1848. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1346,  by 

Wm.  Crosby  and  H.  P.  Nichols, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of 

Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED   AND    PRINTED    BY 

METCALF    AND     COMPANY, 

PRINTERS  TO  THE  UNIVERSITY. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


BY   CHARLES   FOLLEN. 


This  little  book  is  dedicated  to  parents  and  chil- 
dren. Most  of  the  poems  were  written  with  no  other 
hope,  than  that  they  would  instruct  or  please  some 
child.  The  pleasure  they  have  given  in  a  limited 
circle  has  tempted  the  writer  to  print  them.  Some 
have  never  before  appeared  in  public,  but  most  of 
them  have  been  already  published  in  different  works  ; 
some  few,  without  the  author's  knowledge. 

It  will  be  found  that  these  poems  are  intended  for 
children  of  different  ages  and  characters.  It  may 
be  objected  to  the  book,  that  gay  and  serious  pieces 
are  bound  up  together;  but  so  it  is  in  human  life  and 
human  nature,  and  it  is  essential  to  the  healthful  ac- 
tion of  a  child's  mind  that  it  should  be  so.  The 
smile  that  overtakes  its  tears  is  as  necessary  to  the 


IV  PREFACE    TO    THE    FIRST    EDITION. 

child  as  the  sun  after  a  spring  shower  is  to  the  young 
plant ;  and  without  it  a  blight  will  fall  upon  the  open- 
ing blossom. 

The  natural,  love  that  all  have  for  their  literary 
offspring,  perhaps,  first  induced  the  author  to  bring 
the  stray  little  family  together.  This  motive  was 
strengthened  by  the  hope  that  children  might  love 
the  book,  and  that  she  might  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  it  among  their  treasures,  with  the  corners  of 
the  leaves  well  worn  by  their  little  fingers,  and  per- 
haps sometimes  placed  upon  the  pillow  where  "  an- 
gels hover  round." 

This  success,  which  must  secure  to  her  also  the 
approbation  of  parents,  she  does  aspire  after,  and 
most  earnestly  desire  ;  this,  and  this  alone,  will  sat- 
isfy her  ;  without  this,  she  would  be  the  first  to  pro- 
nounce it  an  unworthy  offering. 

Cambridge,  May  19,  1831. 


PREFACE 

TO   THE    PRESENT    EDITION. 


The  present  edition  of  Hymns,  Songs,  and  Fables, 
has  been  greatly  enlarged,  by  poems  either  not  be- 
fore printed,  or  that  have  had  a  very  limited  circula- 
tion, and  also  by  a  number  of  translations  from  the 
German.  If  they  should  have  the  good  fortune  to 
add  to  the  innocent  pleasure  of  the  young,  and  de- 
serve to  become  associated  in  their  minds  with  the 
pure  and  hallowed  recollections  of  home,  and  happy 
early  days,  my  highest  ambition  with  regard  to  them 
will  be  entirely  gratified. 

Eliza  Lee  Follen. 

Cambridge,  November  19,  1846. 


CONTENTS. 


HYMNS. 

PAGE 

"  Suffer  little  Children  to  come  unto  me  "  1 

Hymn 2 

Hymn  for  a  Little  Boy 3 

"  The  Lord  is  my  Strength  " 5 

Hymn 6 

"Thy  Will  be  done" 7 

Sabbath  Day 8 

The  Good  Boy's  Hymn  on  going  to  Bed       ...  10 

God  is  good 11 

Evening 12 

Robinson  Crusoe's  Hymn 13 

Hymn 14 

On  Prayer 16 

"  The  Spirit  giveth  Life  " 17 

We  never  part  from  Thee 19 

"  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father  "      ....  20 

Evening  Hymn 22 

Autumn 23 

The  Lord's  Day 24 

The  Ministry  of  Pain 25 

"  By  Faith  ye  are  saved  " 26 

Evening  Prayer 27 

Evening  Hymn 28 

Lines  written  at  Midnight 29 

"Hope  in  God" .         .31 

Failure  and  Success 32 


CONTENTS. 


SONGS. 


The  Little  Spring 35 

The  Little  Boy's  May-day  Song 36 

Guess  what  I  have  heard 38 

Spring 39 

The  Little  Boy's  Good-night 40 

The  Shepherd's  Sabbath-song 41 

To  Spring 42 

Her  Voyage  is  at  an  End 44 

Charley  and  his  Father.     A  Ballad  .        .         .        .47 

Remember  the  Slave 50 

Home-sickness          ........  52 

Happiness     .........  53 

Children  in  Slavery 54 

To  Good  Resolutions    . 55 

Thanks  for  a  Pleasant  Day 56 

To  a  Butterfly 57 

To  Nature 58 

On  the  Death  of  a  Young  Companion          ...  59 

The  Sabbath  is  here 60 

The  Child  at  her  Mother's  Grave        ....  62 

Child's  Song 63 

To  a  Fountain 64 

Song  for  an  Infant  School 64 

The  Summer 66 

To  a  Beautiful  Girl 68 

The  Little  Slave's  Wish 69 

FABLES. 

The  Honest  Bird 73 

Soliloquy  of  Ellen's  Squirrel 76 

The  Pin,  Needle,  and  Scissors 77 

Learned  Fred        ........  83 

Little  Roland 84 

Billy  Rabbit  to  Mary 91 

The  Old  and  New  Shoes 93 

The  Monkeys  and  the  Bears 97 


HYMNS. 


"SUFFER  LITTLE  CHILDREN  TO  COME   UNTO 
ME." 

"Let  little  children  come  to  me,"  — 
This  is  what  the  Saviour  said  ; 

Little  children,  come  and  see 

Where  these  gracious  words  are  read. 

Often  on  these  pages  look,  — 
Of  the  love  of  God  they  tell ; 

'T  is  indeed  a  holy  book,  — 
Learn  to  read  and  love  it  well. 

Thus  you  hear  the  Saviour  speak,  — 
"  Come  ye  all  and  learn  of  me  "  ; 

He  was  gentle,  lowly,  meek,  — 
So  should  all  his  followers  be. 

1 


HYMNS. 

When  our  Saviour  from  above, 
From  his  Father  did  descend, 

He  took  them  in  his  arms  of  love, 

And  children  knew  him  for  their  friend. 

All  little  children  Jesus  blessed,  — 
Blessed  in  innocence  they  are  ; 

Little  children  he  caressed  ; 

Praise  him  in  your  infant  prayer. 


HYMN. 


Praise  to  God  !    O,  let  us  raise 
From  our  hearts  a  song  of  praise  ! 
Of  that  goodness  let  us  sing 
Whence  our  lives  and  blessings  spring. 

Praise  to  him  who  made  the  light, 
Praise  to  him  who  gave  us  sight, 
Praise  to  him  who  formed  the  ear  ; 
Will  he  not  his  children  hear  ? 


HYMN'S. 

Praise  him  for  our  happy  hours, 
Praise  him  for  our  varied  powers, 
For  these  thoughts  that  rise  above, 
For  these  hearts  he  made  for  love, 

For  the  voice  he  placed  within, 
Bearing  witness  when  we  sin  ; 
Praise  to  him  whose  tender  care 
Keeps  this  watchful  guardian  there. 

Praise  his  mercy,  that  did  send 
Jesus  for  our  guide  and  friend  ; 
Praise  him,  every  heart  and  voice, 
Him  who  makes  all  worlds  rejoice. 


HYMN  FOR  A  LITTLE   BOY. 

M  What,  mother,  makes  it  seem  to  me, 

When  I  am  all  alone, 
As  if  some  one  could  hear  and  see, 

And  all  my  thoughts  were  known  ? 


HYMNS. 


"  Sometimes  it  makes  me  very  glad, 
And  dance  and  sing  with  joy  ; 

Sometimes  it  makes  me  very  sad, 
And  frights  your  little  boy. 

"  O,  tell  me,  mother,  tell  me  why  ; 

For  I  have  never  known 
Why  Jt  is  I  laugh,  or  why  I  cry, 

When  I  am  all  alone." 

"  My  child,  you  never  are  alone  ; 

There  is  a  watchful  eye 
To  which  your  very  thoughts  are  known  ; 

JT  is  God  is  ever  nigh. 

"  He  made  your  little  heart  for  joy, 

He  tunes  your  happy  song  ; 
O,  then,  my  little  timid  boy, 

Fear  only  doing  wrong. 

"  For  he  who  makes  your  heart  so  glad, 

Who  bids  the  good  be  gay, 
With  the  same  love  will  make  it  sad, 

Whene'er  you  disobey. 


HYMNS. 


"  He  is  our  Father,  and  he  hears 
Your  weakest,  faintest  prayer  ; 

He  wipes  away  an  infant's  tears, 
And  children  are  his  care." 


"THE  LORD  IS  MY  STRENGTH." 

Almighty  Father  !  I  am  weak, 
But  thou  wilt  strengthen  me, 

If  from  my  heart  I  humhly  seek 
For  help  and  light  from  thee. 

When  I  am  tempted  to  do  wrong, 

Then,  Father,  pity  me, 
And  make  my  failing  virtue  strong  ; 

Help  me  to  think  of  thee  ! 

Let  Christian  courage  guard  my  youth  ; 

That  courage  give  to  me 
Which  ever  speaks  and  acts  the  truth, 

And  puts  its  trust  in  thee. 


HYMNS. 


HYMN. 

Will  God,  who  made  the  earth  and  sea, 

The  night,  and  shining  day, 
Regard  a  little  child  like  me, 

And  listen  when  I  pray  ? 

If  I  am  hungiy,  poor,  and  cold, 

Then  will  he  hear  my  cry  ? 
And  when  I  shall  be  sick  and  old, 

O,  then  will  God  be  nigh  ? 

Yes  ;  in  his  holy  word  we  read 

Of  his  unfailing  love  ; 
And  when  his  mercy  most  we  need, 

His  mercy  he  will  prove. 

To  those  who  seek  him,  he  is  near  ; 

He  looks  upon  the  heart, 
And  from  the  humble  and  sincere 

He  never  will  depart. 


HYMNS. 

He  sees  our  thoughts,  our  wishes  knows, 
He  hears  our  faintest  prayer  ; 

Where'er  the  faithful  Christian  goes, 
He  finds  his  Father  there. 

Obedient  children  need  not  fear  ; 

God  is  a  faithful  friend, 
And  when  no  other  help  is  near, 

He  will  deliverance  send. 

Then  fear  not  hunger,  cold,  or  pain, 

But  fear  to  disobey 
That  power  which  does  your  life  sustain, 

And  guards  you  every  day. 


"THY  WILL  BE  DONE." 

How  sweet  to  be  allowed  to  pray 
To  God,  the  Holy  One, 

With  filial  love  and  trust  to  say,  — 
"  Father,  thy  will  be  done  !  " 


HYMNS. 

We  in  these  sacred  words  can  find 

A  cure  for  every  ill  ; 
They  calm  and  soothe  the  troubled  mind, 

And  bid  all  care  be  still. 

O,  let  that  will,  which  gave  me  breath 

And  an  immortal  soul, 
In  joy  or  grief,  in  life  or  death,    - 

My  every  wish  control ! 

O,  could  my  heart  thus  ever  pray, 

Thus  imitate  thy  Son  ! 
Teach  me,  O  God,  with  truth  to  say,  — 

"  Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done  !  " 


SABBATH  DAY. 

How  sweet  upon  this  sacred  day, 
The  best  of  all  the  seven, 

To  cast  our  earthly  thoughts  away, 
And  think  of  God  and  heaven  ! 


HYMNS. 

How  sweet  to  be  allowed  to  pray 

Our  sins  may  be  forgiven  ; 
With  filial  confidence  to  say, 

u  Father,  who  art  in  heaven  "  ! 

With  humble  hope  to  bend  the  knee, 
And,  free  from  folly's  leaven, 

Confess  that  we  have  strayed  from  thee; 
Thou  righteous  Judge  in  heaven  ! 

And  if  to  make  all  sin  depart 

In  vain  the  will  has  striven, 
He  who  regards  the  inmost  heart 

Will  send  his  grace  from  heaven. 

If  from  the  bosom  that  is  dear 

By  cold  unkindness  driven, 
The  heart  that  knows  no  refuge  here 

Shall  find  a  friend  in  heaven. 

Then  hail,  thou  sacred,  blessed  day, 

The  best  of  all  the  seven, 
When  hearts  unite  their  vows  to  pay 

Of  gratitude  to  Heaven. 


10  HYMNS. 


THE  GOOD  BOY'S  HYMN  ON  GOING  TO  BED. 

How  sweet  to  lay  my  weary  head 
*Upon  my  quiet  little  bed, 
And  feel  assured,  that  all  day  long 
I  have  not  knowingly  done  wrong  ! 

How  sweet  to  hear  my  mother  say, 
c<  You  have  been  very  good  to  day  !  " 
How  sweet  to  see  my  father's  joy 
When  he  can  say,  "  My  dear,  good  boy  !  " 

How  sweet  it  is  my  thoughts  to  send 
To  many  a  dear-loved  distant  friend, 
And  feel,  if  they  my  heart  could  see, 
How  very  happy  they  would  be  ! 

How  sweet  to  think  that  He  whose  love 
Made  all  these  shining  worlds  above 
My  pure  and  happy  heart  can  see, 
And  loves  a  little  boy  like  me. 


HYMNS.  11 


GOD   IS   GOOD. 


Thou  art  good  !    Each  perfumed  flower, 
Waving  fields,  the  dark  green  wood, 

The  insect  fluttering  for  an  hour,  — 
All  things  proclaim  that  God  is  good. 

I  hear  it  in  each  breath  of  wind  ; 

The  hills  that  have  for  ages  stood, 
And  clouds  with  gold  and  silver  lined, 

All  still  repeat  that  God  is  good. 

Each  little  rill,  that  many  a  year 

Has  the  same  verdant  path  pursued, 

And  every  bird,  in  accents  clear, 
Joins  in  the  song  that  God  is  good. 

The  restless  sea,  with  haughty  roar, 
Calms  each  wild  wave  and  billow  rude, 

Retreats  submissive  from  the  shore, 

And  swells  the  chorus,  "  God  is  good." 


12  HYMNS. 

The  countless  hosts  of  twinkling  stars, 
That  sing  his  praise  with  light  renewed  ; 

The  rising  sun  each  day  declares, 
In  rays  of  glory,  God  is  good. 

The  moon,  that  walks  in  brightness,  says, 
That  God  is  good  !  and  man,  endued 

With  power  to  speak  his  Maker's  praise, 
Should  still  repeat  that  God  is  good. 


EVENING. 

How  beautiful  the  setting  sun  ! 

The  clouds  how  bright  and  gay  ! 
The  stars,  appearing  one  by  one, 

How  beautiful  are  they  ! 

And  when  the  moon  climbs  up  the  sky, 

And  sheds  her  gentle  light, 
And  hangs  her  crystal  lamp  on  high, 

How  beautiful  is  night  ! 


HYMNS.  13 

And  can  it  be  I  am  possessed 

Of  something  brighter  far  ? 
Glows  there  a  light  within  this  breast 

Outshining  every  star  ? 

Yes  ;  should  the  sun  and  stars  turn  pale, 

The  mountains  melt  away, 
This  flame  within  shall  never  fail, 

But  live  in  endless  day. 

This  is  the  soul  that  God  has  given,  — 

Sin  may  its  lustre  dim  ; 
While  goodness  bears  it  up  to  heaven, 

And  leads  it  back  to  him. 


ROBINSON  CRUSOE'S  HYMN. 

Mr  Heavenly  Father  !  all  I  see, 

Around  me  and  above, 
Sends  forth  a  hymn  of  praise  to  thee, 

And  speaks  thy  boundless  love. 

2 


14  HYMNS. 

The  clear  blue  sky  is  full  of  thee, 
The  woods  so  dark  and  lone  ; 

The  soft  south-wind,  the  sounding  sea, 
Worship  the  Holy  One. 

The  humming  of  the  insect  throng, 
The  prattling,  sparkling  rill, 

The  birds,  with  their  melodious  song, 
Repeat  thy  praises  still. 

And  thou  dost  hear  them  every  one,  — 

Father,  thou  hearest  me  ; 
I  know  that  I  am  not  alone, 

When  I  but  think  of  thee. 


HYMN. 


It  was  my  Heavenly  Father's  love 
Brought  every  being  forth  ; 

He  made  the  shining  worlds  above, 
And  every  thing  on  earth. 


HYMNS.  15 

Each  lovely  flower,  the  smallest  fly, 

The  sea,  the  waterfall, 
The  bright  green  fields,  the  clear  blue  sky, — 

'T  is  God  that  made  them  all. 

He  gave  me  all  my  friends,  and  taught 

My  heart  to  love  them  well, 
And  he  bestowed  the  power  of  thought, 

And  speech  my  thoughts  to  tell. 

My  father  and  my  mother  dear,  — 

He  is  their  father  too  ; 
He  bids  me  all  their  precepts  hear, 

And  all  they  teach  me,  do. 

God  sees  and  hears  me  all  the  day, 

And  'mid  the  darkest  night  ; 
He  views  me  when  I  disobey, 

And  when  I  act  aright. 

He  guards  me  with  a  parent's  care, 

When  I  am  all  alone  ; 
My  hymn  of  praise,  my  humble  prayer, 

He  hears  them  every  one. 


16  HYMNS. 

God  hears  what  I  am  saying  now,  — 
O,  what  a  wondrous  thought  ! 

My  Heavenly  Father,  teach  me  how 
To  love  thee  as  I  ought. 


ON  PRAYER. 

As  through  the  pathless  fields  of  air 
Wandered  forth  the  timid  dove, 

So  the  heart,  in  humble  prayer, 
Essays  to  reach  the  throne  of  love. 

Like  her  it  may  return  unblest, 

Like  her  again  may  soar, 
And  still  return  and  find  no  rest, 

No  peaceful,  happy  shore. 

But  now  once  more  she  spreads  her  wings, 

And  takes  a  bolder  flight, 
And  see  !  the  olive-branch  she  brings, 

To  bless  her  master's  sight. 


HYMNS.  17 

And  thus  the  heart  renews  its  strength, 
Though  spent  and  tempest-driven, 

And  higher  soars,  and  brings  at  length 
A  pledge  of  peace  with  Heaven. 


"THE  SPIRIT  GIVETH  LIFE." 

What  was  in  the  viewless  wind, 
Wild  rushing  through  the  oak, 

Seemed  to  my  listening,  dreaming  mind 
As  though  a  spirit  spoke  ? 

What  is  it  to  the  murmuring  stream 

Doth  give  so  sweet  a  song, 
That  on  its  tide  my  thoughts  do  seem 

To  pour  themselves  along  ? 

What  is  it  on  the  dizzy  height, 

What  in  each  glowing  star, 
That  speaks  of  things  beyond  the  sight, 

And  questions  what  they  are  ? 

2* 


18  HYMNS. 

What  in  the  rolling  thunder's  voice, 

What  in  the  ocean's  roar, 
Hears  the  grand  chorus,  "  O,  rejoice  !  " 

Echo  from  shore  to  shore  ? 

What  in  the  gentle  moon  doth  see 
Pure  thoughts  and  tender  love, 

And  hears  delicious  melody 
Around,  below,  above  ? 

What  bids  the  savage  tempest  speak 

Of  terror  and  dismay, 
And  wakes  the  agonizing  shriek 

Of  guilt  that  fears  to  pray  ? 

It  is  this  ever-living  mind  ; 

This  little  throb  of  life 
Hears  its  own  echoes  in  the  wind, 

And  in  the  tempest's  strife  ; 

To  all  that  's  sweet,  and  bright,  and  fair, 

Its  own  affections  gives  ; 
Sees  its  own  image  everywhere, 

Through  all  creation  lives. 


HYMNS.  19 

It  bids  the  everlasting  hills 

Give  back  the  solemn  tone  ; 
This  boundless  arch  of  azure  fills 

With  accents  all  its  own. 

What  is  this  life-inspiring  mind, 

This  omnipresent  thought  ? 
How  shall  it  ever  utterance  find 

For  all  itself  hath  taught  ? 

To  Him  who  breathed  the  heavenly  flame, 

Its  mysteries  are  known  ; 
It  seeks  the  source  from  whence  it  came, 

And  rests  in  God  alone. 


WE  NEVER  PART  FROM  THEE. 

God,  who  dwellest  everywhere 
God,  who  makest  all  thy  care, 
God,  who  hearest  every  prayer, 
Thou  who  see  'st  the  heart ; 


20  HYMNS. 

Thou  to  whom  we  lift  our  eyes, 
Father,  help  our  souls  to  rise, 
And,  beyond  these  narrow  skies, 
See  thee  as  thou  art  ! 

Let  our  anxious  thoughts  be  still, 
Holy  trust  adore  thy  will, 
Holy  love  our  bosoms  fill, 

Let  our  songs  ascend  ! 
Dearest  friends  may  parted  be, 
All  our  earthly  treasures  flee, 
Yet  we  never  part  from  thee, 

Our  eternal  Friend. 


"I  WILL  ARISE  AND   GO  TO  MY  FATHER.' 

Help  me,  O  God,  to  trust  in  thee, 

Thou  high  and  holy  One  ! 
And  may  my  troubled  spirit  flee 

For  rest  to  thee  alone. 


HYMNS.  21 

In  thee  alone  the  soul  can  find 

Secure  and  sweet  repose  ; 
And  thou  canst  bid  the  desert  mind 

To  blossom  as  the  rose. 

Let  not  this  spirit,  formed  to  rise 
Where  angels  claim  their  birth, 

Forsake  its  home  beyond  the  skies, 
And  cling  to  barren  earth. 

The  bird  of  passage  knows  the  sign 

That  warns  him  to  depart  ; 
Shall  I  not  heed  the  voice  divine, 

That  whispers  in  my  heart,  — 

"  Up  !  plume  thy  wings,  soar  far  away  ! 

No  longer  idly  roam  ! 
Fly  to  the  realms  of  endless  day  ; 

For  this  is  not  thy  home." 

This  still,  small  voice,  O,  may  I  hear  ! 

Ere  clouds  and  darkness  come, 
And  thunders  in  my  startled  ear 

Proclaim  mv  final  doom. 


22  HYMNS. 

Father  !  to  thee  my  spirit  cries  ! 

Thy  wandering  child  reclaim. 
Speak  !  and  my  dying  faith  shall  rise. 

And  wake  a  deathless  flame. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

Thou,  from  whom  we  never  part, 
Thou,  whose  love  is  everywhere, 

Thou  who  seest  every  heart, 
Listen  to  our  evening  prayer. 

Father  !  fill  our  souls  with  love, 
Love  unfailing,  full,  and  free, 

Love  no  injury  can  move, 
Love  that  ever  rests  on  thee. 

Heavenly  Father  !  through  the  night 
Keep  us  safe  from  every  ill ; 

Cheerful  as  the  morning  light, 
May  we  wake  to  do  thy  will. 


HYMNS.  23 


AUTUMN. 

Sweet  Summer,  with  her  flowers,  has  past, 

I  hear  her  parting  knell ; 
I  hear  the  moaning,  fitful  blast, 

Sighing  a  sad  farewell. 

But,  while  she  fades  and  dies  away, 

In  rainbow  hues  she  glows  ; 
Like  the  last  smile  of  parting  day, 

Still  brightening  as  she  goes. 

The  robin  whistles  clear  and  shrill  ; 

Sad  is  the  cricket's  song  ; 
The  wind,  wild  rushing  o'er  the  hill, 

Bears  the  dead  leaf  along. 

I  love  this  sober,  solemn  time, 

This  twilight  of  the  year  ; 
To  me,  sweet  Spring,  in  all  her  prime,' 

Was  never  half  so  dear. 


24  HYMNS. 

While  death  has  set  his  changing  seal 

On  all  that  meets  the  eye, 
'T  is  rapture,  then,  within  to  feel 

The  soul  that  cannot  die  ;  — 

To  look  far,  far  beyond  this  sky, 

To  Him  who  changes  never. 
This  earth,  these  heavens,  shall  change  and  die  ; 

God  is  the  same  for  ever. 


THE  LORDS  DAY. 

This  is  the  day  when  Jesus  woke 

From  the  deep  slumbers  of  the  tomb  ; 

This  is  the  day  the  Saviour  broke 

The  bonds  of  fear  and  hopeless  gloom. 

This  is  indeed  a  holy  day  ; 

No  longer  may  we  dread  to  die. 
Let  every  fear  be  cast  away, 

And  tears  be  wiped  from  every  eye. 


HYMNS.  25 

Sorrow  and  pain  the  Saviour  knew  ; 

A  dark  and  thorny  path  he  trod  ; 
But  heaven  was  ever  in  his  view,  — 

That  toilsome  path  led  up  to  God. 

Let  every  heart  rejoice  and  sing  ; 

Let  every  sin  and  sorrow  cease  ; 
Let  children  come  this  day  and  bring 

Their  offering  of  love  and  peace. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  PAIN. 

Cease,  my  complaining  spirit,  cease  ; 

Know  't  is  a  Father's  hand  you  feel  ; 
It  leads  you  to  the  realms  of  peace  ; 

It  kindly  only  wounds  to  heal. 

My  Father  !  what  a  holy  joy 

Bursts  on  the  sad,  desponding  mind, 

To  say,  when  fiercest  ills  annoy,  — 
"  I  know  my  Father  still  is  kind  !  " 
3 


26  HYMNS. 

This  bids  each  trembling  fear  be  still, 
Checks  every  murmur,  every  sigh  ; 

Patience  then  waits  his  sovereign  will, 
Rejoiced  to  live,  —  resigned  to  die. 

O  blessed  ministry  of  pain  ! 

To  teach  the  soul  its  real  worth  ; 
To  lead  it  to  that  source  again, 

From  whence  it  first  derived  its  birth. 


"  BY  FAITH  YE  ARE  SAVED." 

Christian  !  when,  overwhelmed  with  grief  and 
care, 

Thou  prayest  for  the  help  that  thou  dost  need, 

As  shipwrecked  mariner  for  life  will  plead, 
O,  then  for  faith  pour  forth  the  fervent  prayer  ! 
'T  is  faith  alone  life's  heavy  ills  can  bear. 

O,  mark  her  calm,  far-seeing,  quickening  eye, 

Full  of  the  light  of  immortality  ! 

It  tells  of  worlds  unseen,  and  calls  us  there  ; 

That  look  of  hers  can  save  thee  from  despair. 


HYMNS.  27 

When  sorrow,  like  thick  darkness,  gathers  round, 
And  all  life's  flowers  are  fading  in  the  dust, 

Faith  lifts  our  drooping  vision  from  the  ground,  — 
Says,  that  the  hand  that  smites  us  yet  is  just ; 

That  human  agony  hath  ever  found 
The  mighty  God  a  never-failing  trust. 


EVENING  PRAYER. 

Great  Source  of  being, 
Father  all-seeing  ! 
We  bow  before  thee  ; 
Our  souls  adore  thee  ; 
Help  us  obey  thee  ; 
Guide  us  aright  ; 
Keep  us,  we  pray  thee, 
Through  the  long  night. 

Thou  kind,  forgiving 
God  of  all  living, 
Thy  power  defend  us, 
Thy  peace  attend  us, 


28  HYMNS. 

While  we  are  closing 
This  day  in  prayer, 
Ever  reposing 
Under  thy  care. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

Before  I  close  my  eyes  to-night, 

Let  me  myself  these  questions  ask  :  — 

Have  I  endeavoured  to  do  right, 
Nor  thought  my  duty  was  a  task  ? 

Have  I  been  gentle,  lowly,  meek, 

And  the  small  voice  of  conscience  heard  ? 

When  passion  tempted  me  to  speak, 
Have  I  repressed  the  angry  word  ? 

Have  I  with  cheerful  zeal  obeyed 
What  my  kind  parents  bid  me  do, 

And  not  by  word  or  action  said 

The  thing  that  was  not  strictly  true  ? 


HYMNS.  29 

In  hard  temptation's  troubled  hour, 

Then  have  I  stopped  to  think  and  pray, 

That  God  would  give  my  soul  the  power 
To  chase  the  sinful  thought  away  ? 

O  Thou  who  seest  all  my  heart, 
Wilt  thou  forgive  and  love  me  still  ! 

Wilt  thou  to  me  new  strength  impart, 
And  make  me  love  to  do  thy  will ! 


LINES  WRITTEN  AT  MIDNIGHT. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  A.  G.  EBERHARD. 

The  sun  m  smiles  doth  dress  his  face, 
As  evening  comes  to  take  his  place  ; 
So  looks  the  parting  loved-one,  when 
He  means  to  quickly  come  again. 

With  moon  and  stars  all  sparkling  bright, 
Advances  now  the  silent  night ; 
And  with  the  calm  and  gentle  moon, 
Sweet  peace  doth  quietly  come  on. 
3* 


30  HYMNS. 

Who  at  the  moon  and  stars  can  gaze 
Without  a  gush  of  love  and  praise  ? 
And  now  it  is  the  midnight  hour, 
And  sleep  asserts  her  soothing  power. 

But  see,  the  flickering  light  is  gone, 
That  from  my  neighbour's  window  shone  ; 
His  simple  household  prayer  is  said, 
He  rests  from  toil,  on  his  hard  bed. 

Yet  still  the  watchman  wakes,  and  still 
Faithful  till  morning  watch  he  will  ; 
But  vain,  O  watchman  !  is  thy  care, 
If  God,  the  Guardian,  be  not  there. 

By  my  dull  lamp,  whose  light  's  near  gone, 
In  my  small  room  I  sit  alone, 
And,  thinking  o'er  past  joys  and  pain, 
A  sweet  contentment  doth  remain. 

He  's  still  my  trust;  he,  the  true  Shepherd,  never 
Will  forsake  his  sheep,  — he  watcheth  ever  ; 
The  mother  may  forget  her  child,  but  yet 
Thus  saith  the  Lord,—"  Thee  I  will  not  forget." 


HYMNS.  31 


I  rest  in  peace,  I  trust  in  Thee  ; 
Thy  faithful  eye  still  watcheth  me  ; 
For  He  who  ever  wakes  and  lives 
To  loving  hearts  no  night  e'er  gives. 


"HOPE  IN   GOD." 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF    S.    A.    MAHLMAN. 

Hope,  my  heart,  in  patience  hope,  — 
Thou  at  last  thy  flowers  shalt  gather ; 

God  is  full  of  tender  love,  — 

Childlike  speak  thou  to  thy  Father. 

From  believing,  trusting  hearts, 

The  God  of  mercy  ne'er  departs. 

Clouds  may  come,  and  clouds  may  go, 
Rest  upon  his  goodness  always  ; 

To  those  joyful,  sunny  heights 
Lead  these  rough  and  gloomy  pathways  ; 

Wakes  for  aye  his  Eye  of  Light,  — 

Tremble  not  in  storm  and  night. 


32  HYMNS. 

Anchored  on  the  Eternal  Rock, 
To  the  heart  of  God  fast  clinging, 

Tell  him  all  thy  deepest  woes, 

Before  him  all  thy  sorrows  bringing  ; 

He  is  kind,  and  comfort  gives 

To  every  sorrowing  heart  that  lives. 

Let  true  faith  strong  courage  give  ; 

Strength  the  Helper  now  is  sending  ; 
Soon  thou  'It  understand  His  ways, 

Soon  thou  'It  find  thy  sorrows  ending* 
God  !  who  life  and  goodness  art ! 
In  patience  hope  in  Him,  my  heart. 


FAILURE   AND   SUCCESS. 

It  is  in  failure,  in  distress, 

When,  reft  of  all,  it  stands  alone, 
And  not  in  what  men  call  success, 

The  noble,  valiant  soul  is  known. 


HYMNS.  33 

He  who  perfection  makes  his  aim 
Shoots  at  a  mark  he  may  not  reach  ; 

The  world  may  laugh,  the  world  may  blame, 
And  what  it  calls  discretion  preach. 

And  he  will  fail  to  win  the  goal 

Which  low  ambition  makes  its  own  ; 

But,  far  beyond,  his  earnest  soul 
Stands  in  the  light,  though  all  alone. 

It  was  through  insult,  pain,  and  loss 
That  Jesus  won  immortal  power ; 

Thus  the  great  failure  of  the  cross 
Was  his  triumphant,  glorious  hour. 


Think  not  of  failure  or  success  ; 

He  fails  who  has  a  low  desire. 
Up  to  the  highest  ever  press, 

Still  onward,  upward,  higher  !  higher 


Make  such  thy  purpose,  such  thy  aim, 
That  they  who  watch  thy  spirit's  flight 

Shall  look  to  heaven  from  whence  it  came, 
And  loose  thee  in  celestial  light. 


SONGS. 


THE  LITTLE  SPRING. 

Beneath  a  green  and  mossy  bank 
There  flows  a  clear  and  fairy  stream  ; 

There  the  pert  squirrel  oft  has  drank, 
And  thought,  perhaps,  't  was  made  for  him. 

Their  pitchers  there  the  laborers  fill, 
As  drop  by  drop  the  crystals  flow, 

Singing  their  silvery  welcome  still 
To  al1  who  to  the  fountain  go. 

Then  to  the  river  on  it  glides, 

Its  tributary  drop  to  bear, 
Its  modest  head  a  moment  hides, 

Then  rises  up  and  sparkles  there. 


36  SONGS. 

The  touching  lesson  on  my  heart 
Falls  like  the  gentle  dews  of  heaven, 

Bids  me  with  humble  love  impart 
The  little  treasure  God  has  given. 

For  from  a  source  as  small  as  this 
Full  many  a  cup  of  joy  may  flow, 

And  on  the  stream  of  human  bliss 
Its  little  ray  of  gladness  throw. 


THE  LITTLE  BOY'S  MAY-DAY  SONG. 

"  The  flowers  are  blooming  everywhere, 

On  every  hill  and  dell, 
And  O,  how  beautiful  they  are  ! 

How  sweetly,  too,  they  smell  ! 

"  The  little  brooks,  they  dance  along, 

And  look  so  glad  and  gay  ; 
I  love  to  hear  their  pleasant  song, 

I  feel  as  glad  as  they. 


SONGS.  37 

11  The  young  lambs  bleat  and  frisk  about, 

The  bees  hum  round  their  hive, 
The  butterflies  are  coming  out,  — 

?T  is  good  to  be  alive. 

"  The  trees  that  looked  so  stiff  and  gray 
With  green  wreaths  now  are  hung  ; 

O  mother  !   let  me  laugh  and  play, 
I  cannot  hold  my  tongue. 

"  See  yonder  bird  spread  out  his  wings, 

And  mount  the  clear  blue  skies ; 
And  hark  !  how  merrily  he  sings, 

As  far  away  he  flies." 

cc  Go  forth,  my  child,  and  laugh  and  play, 

And  let  your  cheerful  voice, 
With  birds,  and  brooks,  and  merry  May, 

Cry  loud,  Rejoice  !  rejoice  ! 

"  I  would  not  check  your  bounding  mirth, 

My  little  happy  boy, 
For  He  who  made  this  blooming  earth 

Smiles  on  an  infant's  joy." 
4 


SONGS. 


GUESS  WHAT  I  HAVE  HEARD. 

Dear  mother,  guess  what  I  have  heard  ! 

O,  it  will  soon  be  spring  ! 
I  'm  sure  it  was  a  little  bird,  — 

Mother,  I  heard  him  sing. 

Look  at  this  little  piece  of  green 
That  peeps  out  from  the  snow. 

As  if  it  wanted  to  be  seen,  — 
'T  will  soon  be  spring,  I  know. 

And  O,  come  here,  come  here  and  look  ! 

How  fast  it  runs  along  !  — 
Here  is  a  cunning  little  brook  ; 

O,  hear  its  pretty  song  ! 

I  know  't  is  glad  the  winter  's  gone 

That  kept  it  all  so  still, 
For  now  it  merrily  runs  on, 

And  goes  just  where  it  will. 


SONGS.  39 

I  feel  just  like  the  brook,  I  know  ; 

It  says,  it  seems  to  me,  — 
"  Good  by,  cold  weather,  ice,  and  snow  ; 

Now  girls  and  brooks  are  free." 

I  love  to  think  of  what  you  said, 

Mother,  to  me  last  night, 
Of  this  great  world  that  God  has  made, 

So  beautiful  and  bright. 

And  now  it  is  the  happy  spring 

No  naughty  thing  I  '11  do  ; 
I  would  not  be  the  only  thing 

That  is  not  happy,  too. 


SPRING. 


Hark  !  the  little  birds  are  singing,  — 
Winter  's  gone  and  summer  's  near  ; 

See,  the  tender  grass  is  springing, 
And  the  flowers  will  soon  be  here. 


40  SONGS. 

Who  made  the  winter  and  the  spring  ? 

Who  painted  all  the  flowers  ? 
Who  taught  the  little  birds  to  sing, 

And  made  these  hearts  of  ours  ? 

O,  't  is  God  !  how  good  he  is  ! 

He  does  every  blessing  give  ; 
All  this  happy  world  is  his, — 

Let  us  love  him  while  we  live. 


THE  LITTLE  BOY'S  GOOD-NIGHT. 

The  sun  is  hidden  from  our  sight, 
The  birds  are  sleeping  sound  ; 

'T  is  time  to  say  to  all,  "  Good  night  !  " 
And  give  a  kiss  all  round. 

Good  night !  my  father,  mother,  dear. 

Now  kiss  your  little  son  ; 
Good  night  !  my  friends,  both  far  and  near, 

Good  night  to  every  one. 


SONGS.  41 

Good  night  !  ye  merry,  merry  birds, 

Sleep  well  till  morning  light ; 
Perhaps  if  you  could  sing  in  words, 

You  would  have  said,  "  Good  night !  " 

To  all  my  pretty  flowers,  good  night  ! 

You  blossom  while  I  sleep  ; 
And  all  the  stars,  that  shine  so  bright, 

With  you  their  watches  keep. 

The  moon  is  lighting  up  the  skies, 

The  stars  are  sparkling  there  ; 
'T  is  time  to  shut  our  weary  eyes, 

And  say  our  evening  prayer. 


THE  SHEPHERDS  SABBATH-SONG. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF    UHLAND. 

This  is  the  Sabbath  day  ! 

In  the  wide  field  I  am  alone. 

Hark  !  now  one  morning  bell's  sweet  tone, 

Now  it  has  died  away. 
4  # 


42  SONGS. 

Kneeling  I  worship  Thee  ; 
Sweet  dread  doth  o'er  my  spirit  steal, 
From  whispering  sounds  of  those  who  kneel, 

Unseen,  to  pray  with  me. 

Around  and  far  away, 
So  clear  and  solemn  is  the  sky, 
It  seems  all  opening  to  my  eye  ; 

This  is  the  Sabbath  day  ! 


TO  SPRING. 

Hail  !  reviving,  joyous  Spring, 

Smiling  through  thy  veil  of  showers  ; 

Birds  and  brooks  thy  welcome  sing,  — 
Haste,  and  waken  all  thy  flowers. 

Hark  !  a  sweet  pervading  sound  ! 

From  the  breathing,  moving  earth 
Life  is  starting  all  around, 

Sending  joy  and  fragrance  forth. 


SONGS.  43 

O'er  the  oak's  gigantic  form 

Blossoms  hang  their  drapery  ; 
Branches  that  defied  the  storm 

Now  are  full  of  melody. 

There  is  not  a  silent  thing 

In  this  joyous  company  ; 
Woods,  and  hills,  and  valleys  ring 

With  a  shout  of  jubilee. 

Wake,  my  spirit !  art  thou  still  ? 

Senseless  things  have  found  a  voice  ; 
Shall  this  throbbing  heart  be  still, 

When  all  nature  cries,  "  Rejoice  "  ? 

Wake,  come  forth,  my  bounding  soul  ! 

Join  the  universal  glee, 
Yield  to  nature's  kind  control, 

Catch  her  heavenly  harmony. 

Join  the  grateful,  happy  throng, 

Cast  each  selfish  care  away  ; 
Birds  and  brooks  shall  tune  your  song  ; 

This  is  nature's  holiday. 


44  SONGS. 


HER  VOYAGE  IS  AT  AN  END. 

Hushed  was  the  ocean's  stormy  roar, 

Still  as  an  infant's  joy  ; 
There  sat  upon  the  rocky  shore 

A  father  and  his  boy. 

Far  off  they  saw  a  gallant  ship, 

It  came  from  foreign  lands  ; 
The  boy  began  to  dance  and  skip, 

And  clap  his  little  hands. 

Her  wished-for  port  is  near  at  hand, 

The  ship  is  hastening  on  ; 
They  hear  the  birds  sing  on  the  land  ; 

Her  voyage  is  nearly  done. 

The  boy's  glad  notes,  his  shouts  of  glee, 

The  rocks  with  music  fill  ; 
But  now  he  cries,  — "  See,  father,  see  ! 

The  ship  is  standing  still." 


SONGS.  45 

Her  masts  are  trembling  from  the  shock, 

Her  white  sails  all  descend  ; 
The  ship  has  struck  upon  a  rock,  — 

Her  voyage  is  at  an  end. 

The  sailors  hurry  to  and  fro, 

All  crowded  is  the  deck  ; 
She  struggles  hard,  —  she  's  free  ;  —  O,  no  ! 

She  is  indeed  a  wreck. 

The  boy's  young  heart  is  full  of  grief : 

"  Father  !  what  will  she  do  ? 
Let  's  take  the  boat  to  her  relief, 

O,  quickly  let  us  go  \ '' 

They  went,  —  and  many  a  stronger  hand 

Its  ready  succour  gave  ; 
They  brought  the  crew  all  safe  to  land, 

And  the  cargo  tried  to  save. 

The  night  comes  on,  the  night  is  dark, 

More  dark  the  billows  seem  ; 
They  break  against  the  ship,  and  hark  ! 

The  seamew's  mournful  scream. 


46  SONGS. 

The  boy  upon  his  pillow  lies, 

In  sweet  repose  he  sinks  ; 
And,  as  he  shuts  his  weary  eyes, 

On  the  poor  ship  he  thinks. 

The  sun  shines  o'er  the  wateiy  main 

As  it  did  the  day  before  ; 
The  father  and  his  son  again 

Are  seated  on  the  shore. 

With  the  western  wind  full  many  a  boat 

Their  white  sails  gayly  fill, 
They  lightly  o'er  the  blue  waves  float,  — 

But  the  gallant  ship  is  still. 

The  sailors  now  the  mournful  wreck 

Of  masts  and  rigging  strip  ; 
The  waves  are  playing  o'er  the  deck 

Of  the  sad  and  ruined  ship. 

A  crow  upon  the  top  branch  stood 

Of  a  lone  and  blasted  tree  ; 
He  seemed  to  look  upon  the  flood 

With  a  gloomy  sympathy. 


SONGS.  47 


The  boy  now  looks  up  at  the  bird, 
At  the  sinking  vessel  now  ; 

He  does  not  speak  a  single  word, 
But  a  shade  is  on  his  brow. 

Now  slowly  comes  a  towering  wave, 
And  sweeps  with  triumph  on  ; 

It  bears  her  to  her  watery  grave,  — • 
The  gallant  ship  is  gone. 

Hushed  is  the  ocean's  stormy  roar, 

Still  as  an  infant's  joy  ; 
The  father  sits  upon  the  shore 

In  silence  with  his  boy. 

Cohasset  Shore,  Julij,  1831. 


CHARLEY  AND  HIS  FATHER. 

A    BALLAD. 

The  birds  are  flown  away, 

The  flowers  are  dead  and  gone, 

The  clouds  look  cold  and  gray 
Around  the  setting  sun. 


48  SONGS. 

The  trees  with  solemn  sighs 
Their  naked  branches  swing  ; 

The  winter  winds  arise, 
And  mournfully  they  sing. 

Upon  his  father's  knee 

Was  Charley's  happy  place, 

And  very  thoughtfully 

He  looked  up  in  his  face  ; 

And  these  his  simple  words  :  — 
"  Father,  how  cold  it  blows  ! 

What  'comes  of  all  the  birds 

Amidst  the  storms  and  snows  ?  " 

"  They  fly  far,  far  away 

From  storms,  and  snows,  and  rain  ; 
But,  Charley  dear,  next  May 

They  '11  all  come  back  again." 

"  And  will  my  flowers  come,  too  ?  " 

The  little  fellow  said, 
"  And  all  be  bright  and  new, 

That  now  looks  cold  and  dead  ?  " 


SONGS.  49 

"  O,  yes,  dear  ;  in  the  spring 

The  flowers  will  all  revive, 
The  birds  return  and  sing, 

And  all  be  made  alive." 

"  Who  shows  the  birds  the  way, 

Father,  that  they  must  go  ? 
And  brings  them  back  in  May, 

When  there  is  no  more  snow  ? 

"  And  when  no  flower  is  seen 

Upon  the  hill  and  plain, 
Who  '11  make  it  all  so  green, 

And  bring  the  flowers  again  ?  " 

u  My  son,  there  is  a  Power 

That  none  of  us  can  see 
Takes  care  of  every  flower, 

Gives  life  to  every  tree. 

"  He  through  the  pathless  air 

Shows  little  birds  their  way  ; 
And  we,  too,  are  his  care,  — 

He  guards  us  day  by  day." 
5 


50 


SONGS. 


"  Father,  when  people  die, 

Will  they  come  back  in  May  ?  " 

Tears  were  in  Charley's  eye,  — 
"  Will  they,  dear  father,  say  ?  " 

"  No  !  they  will  never  come  ; 

We  go  to  them,  my  boy, 
Trier e,  in  our  heavenly  home, 

To  meet  in  endless  joy." 

Upon  his  father's  knee 

Still  Charley  kept  his  place, 

And  very  thoughtfully 
He  looked  up  in  his  face. 


REMEMBER  THE  SLAVE. 

Mother  !   whene'er  around  your  child 
You  clasp  your  arms  in  love, 

And  when,  with  grateful  joy,  you  raise 
Your  eyes  to  God  above, 


SOXGS.  51 

Think  of  the  negro  mother,  when 

Her  child  is  torn  away, 
Sold  for  a  little  slave,  —  O,  then 

For  that  poor  mother  pray  ! 

Father  !  whene'er  your  happy  boys 

You  look  upon  with  pride, 
And  pray  to  see  them  when  you  're  old, 

All  blooming  by  your  side, 

Think  of  that  father's  withered  heart, 

The  father  of  a  slave, 
Who  asks  a  pitying  God  to  give 

His  little  son  a  grave. 

Brothers  and  sisters  !  who  with  joy 

Meet  round  the  social  hearth, 
And  talk  of  home  and  happy  days, 

And  laugh  in  careless  mirth, 

Remember,  too,  the  poor  young  slave, 

Who  never  felt  your  joy, 
Who,  early  old,  has  never  known 

The  bliss  to  be  a  boy. 


SONGS. 

Ye  Christians  !  ministers  of  Him 
Who  came  to  make  men  free, 

When,  at  the  Almighty  Maker's  throne, 
You  bend  the  suppliant  knee, 

From  the  deep  fountains  of  your  soul 
Then  let  your  prayers  ascend 

For  the  poor  slave,  who  hardly  knows 
That  God  is  still  his  friend. 

Let  all  who  know  that  God  is  just, 

That  Jesus  came  to  save, 
Unite  in  the  most  holy  cause 

Of  the  forsaken  slave. 


HOME-SICKNESS. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN. 

Were  I  a  wild,  wild  falcon, 
I  'd  soar  away  on  high, 

And  seek  my  father's  dwelling, 
Beyond  the  far  blue  sky. 


SONGS.  53 

Against  that  well-known  door  then 

I  'd  flap  my  wings  with  joy  ; 
My  mother  from  the  window 

Sees  and  admits  her  boy. 

"  Dear  son  !  "  she  'd  say  ;  "  O,  welcome  ! 

How  often  has  my  heart 
Longed  sadly  to  embrace  thee  ; 

Now  here  behold  thou  art  !  " 

Thus  memory  still  is  dreaming 

Of  what  can  never  be. 
My  long-lost  home,  —  the  loved  ones,  — 

These  eyes  may  never  see. 


HAPPINESS. 

What  is  it  makes  the  morning  bright  ? 

What  gilds  the  evening  hours  ? 
What  makes  our  hearts  seem  gay  and  light, 

As  if  we  trod  on  flowers  ? 
5* 


&4  SO.XGS. 

'T  is  innocence  that  makes  us  gay, 
Bids  flowers  grow  everywhere  ; 

Makes  it  bright  sunshine  every  day, 
And  every  evening  fair. 

What  makes  us,  when  we  look  above, 

See  smiling  angels  there, 
And  think  they  look  on  us  in  love, 

As  if  we  were  their  care  ? 
JT  is  that  the  soul,  all  free  from  sin, 

Glows  like  an  inward  sun  ; 
And  heaven  above  and  heaven  wTithin 

Do  meet  and  join  in  one. 


CHILDREN  IN  SLAVERY. 

When  children  play  the  livelong  day, 

Like  birds  and  butterflies, 
As  free  and  gay  sport  life  away, 

And  know  not  care  nor  sighs  ; 


soxgs.  55 

Then  earth  and  air  seem  fresh  and  fair, 

All  peace  below,  above  ; 
Life's  flowers  are  diere,  and  everywhere 

Is  innocence  and  love. 

When  children  pray  with  fear  all  day, 

A  blight  must  be  at  hand  ; 
Then  joys  decay,  and  birds  of  prey 

Are  hovering  o'er  the  land. 
When  young  hearts  weep  as  they  go  to  sleep, 

Then  all  the  world  seems  sad  ; 
The  flesh  must  creep,  and  woes  are  deep, 

When  children  are  not  glad. 


TO  GOOD  RESOLUTIONS. 

How  like  the  morning  flower  ye  are  ! 

Which  lifts  its  diamond  head, 

Exulting  in  the  mead  ; 
But  the  rude  wind  shall  steal  its  gem, 

Shall  break  its  tender  stem, 
And  leave  it  dead. 


5G  SONGS. 

Frail  pledges  of  the  contrite  heart, 
Wherefore  so  soon  decay  ? 
O,  yet  prolong  your  stay  ! 

Until  my  soul  shall  boldly  rise, 
And  claim  its  native  skies, 
Haste  not  away. 


THANKS  FOR  A  PLEASANT  DAY. 

Come,  let  us  all,  with  heart  and  voice, 
To  God  our  Father  sing  and  pray  ; 

In  his  unceasing  love  rejoice, 

And  thank  him  for  this  pleasant  day. 

The  clear  blue  sky  looks  full  of  love  ; 

Let  all  our  selfish  passions  cease  ! 
O,  let  us  lift  our  thoughts  above, 

Where  all  is  brightness,  goodness,  peace. 

If  we  have  done  a  brother  wrong, 

O,  let  us  seek  to  be  forgiven  ; 
Nor  let  one  discord  spoil  the  song 

Our  hearts  would  raise  this  day  to  heaven. 


SONGS.  57 

This  blessed  day,  when  the  pure  air 
Is  full  of  sweetness,  full  of  joy,  — 

When  all  around  is  calm  and  fair,  — 
Shall  we  the  harmony  destroy  ? 

O,  may  it  be  our  earnest  care 

To  free  our  souls  from  every  sin  ; 

Then  will  each  day  be  bright  and  fair, 
For  God's  pure  sunshine  dwells  within. 


TO  A  BUTTERFLY. 

[Those  who  are  acquainted  with  this  little  poem,  trans- 
lated from  Herder,  will  perceive  that  a  slight  liberty  has  been 
taken  with  the  last  two  lines.] 

Airy,  lovely,  heavenly  thing  ! 
Butterfly  with  quivering  wing  ! 
Hovering  in  thy  transient  hour 
Over  every  bush  and  flower, 
Feasting  upon  flowers  and  dew, 
Thyself  a  brilliant  blossom,  too  ! 


58  SONGS. 

Who,  with  skilful  fingers  fine, 

Purpled  o'er  those  wings  of  thine  ? 

Was  it  some  sylph  whose  tender  care 

Spangled  thy  robes  so  fine  and  fair, 

And  wove  them  of  the  morning  air  ? 

I  feel  thy  little  throbbing  heart  ; 

Thou  fear'st  e'en  now  death's  bitter  smart. 

Fly,  little  spirit,  fly  away  ! 

Be  free  and  joyful  thy  short  day  ! 

Image  thou  dost  seem  to  me 

Of  that  which  I  may  one  day  be, 

When  I  shall  drop  this  robe  of  earth, 

And  wake  into  a  spirit's  birth. 


TO  NATURE. 

FROM    THE    GERMAX    OF    FREDERICK    LEOPOLD,    COCST    OF 
STALBERG. 

Holy  nature  !  fresh  and  free, 
Let  me  ever  follow  thee  ; 
By  the  hand,  O,  lead  me  still, 
Like  a  child,  at  thy  sweet  will. 


SONGS. 

When  with  weariness  oppressed. 
I  will  on  thy  bosom  rest, 
Breathe  in  pleasure  from  above, 
In  thy  mother-arms  of  love. 

O,  how  well  it  is  for  me 
Thee  to  love,  with  thee  to  be  ! 
Holy  nature  !   sweet  and  free, 
Let  me  ever  follow  thee. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  COMPANION. 

Farewell  for  a  time  ! 

Thou  hast  gone  to  that  clime 
Where  sickness  and  sorrow  are  o'er. 

We  loved  thee  when  here, 

We  shed  the  sad  tear 
To  think  we  shall  see  thee  no  more. 

We  weep  not  for  thee, 

We  remember  that  He 

Who  made  little  children  his  care 


60  SONGS. 

In  his  own  fatherland 
Will  reach  you  his  hand, 
And  comfort  and  welcome  you  there. 

Our  tears  they  will  flow  ; 

But  do  we  not  know 
That  thou  art  released  from  all  pain  ? 

Then  weep  not  ;  for  He 

Who  walked  on  the  sea 
Has  said  we  shall  all  live  again. 


THE  SABBATH  IS  HERE. 

FROM    KRUMACHER. 

The  Sabbath  is  here,  it  is  sent  us  from  heaven  ; 
Rest,  rest,  toilsome  life, 
Be  silent  all  strife, 
Let  us  stop  on  our  way, 
And  give  thanks  and  pray 
To  Him  who  all  things  has  given. 


SONGS.  61 

The  Sabbath  is  here,  to  the  fields  let  us  go  ; 
How  fresh  and  how  fair  ! 
In  the  still  morning  air, 
The  bright  golden  grain 
Waves  over  the  plain  ; 
It  is  God  who  doth  all  this  bestow. 

The  Sabbath  is  here  ;  on  this  blessed  morn 
No  tired  ox  moans, 
No  creaking  wheel  groans, 
At  rest  is  the  plough  ; 
No  noise  is  heard  now, 
Save  the  sound  of  the  rustling  corn. 

The  Sabbath  is  here  ;  our  seed  we  have  sown 
In  hope  and  in  faith  ; 
The  Father  he  saith 
Amen  !    Be  it  so  ! 
Behold  the  corn  grow  ! 
Rejoicing  his  goodness  we  '11  own. 

The  Sabbath  is  here  ;  His  love  we  will  sing 
Who  sendeth  the  rain 
Upon  the  young  grain. 
6 


62  SONGS. 

And  soon  all  around 
The  sickle  will  sound, 
And  home  the  bright  sheaves  we  will  bring. 

The  Sabbath  is  here  ;  in  hope  and  in  love 
We  sow  in  the  dust, 
While  humbly  we  trust 
Up  yonder  shall  grow 
The  seed  which  we  sow, 
And  bloom  a  bright  garland  above. 


THE  CHILD  AT  HER  MOTHER'S  GRAVE. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN. 

In  that  little  room  of  thine, 

Sweet  sleep  has  come  to  thee  ; 

Ah,  mother  !  dearest  mother  mine  ! 

O,  call  me  to  that  room  of  thine  ! 
O,  shut  it  not  from  me  ! 

I  would  so  gladly  be  with  thee, 
And  be  thy  child  again  ; 


songs.  63 

'T  is  cold  and  stormy  here  with  me, 
'T  is  warm,  and,  O,  so  still  with  thee  ! 
Ah  !  let  me,  let  me  in  ! 

Thou  took'st  me  gladly  once  with  thee, 

So  gladly  held  my  hand  ; 
O,  see,  thou  hast  forsaken  me  ! 
Take  me  this  time  again  with  thee 

Into  the  heavenly  land. 


CHILD'S  SONG. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN. 

When  at  night  I  go  to  sleep, 
Fourteen  angels  are  at  hand  ;  — 

Two  on  my  right  their  watches  keep  ; 
Two  on  my  left  to  bless  me  stand  ; 

Two  hover  gently  o'er  my  head  ; 

Two  guard  the  foot  of  my  small  bed  ; 

Two  wake  me  with  the  sun's  first  ray  ; 

Two  dress  me  nicely  every  day  ; 

Two  guide  me  on  the  heavenly  road, 

That  leads  to  paradise  and  God. 


64  SONGS. 

TO  A  FOUNTAIN. 

FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  RAMLER. 

Lo  !   this  fount  is  flowing  ever  ; 
But  the  fountain  prattles  never. 
Traveller  !  at  this  fountain  stay  ; 
Learn  of  it,  with  pure  endeavour, 
Good  to  do,  and  nothing  say. 


SONG  FOR  AN  INFANT  SCHOOL. 

Children  go 

To  and  fro, 
In  a  merry,  pretty  row, 

Footsteps  light, 

Faces  bright ; 
'T  is  a  happy  sight. 
Swiftly  turning  round  and  round, 
Do  not  look  upon  the  ground. 

Follow  me, 

Full  of  glee, 
Singing  merrily. 


SONGS.  65 

Birds  are  free, 

So  are  we  ; 
And  we  live  as  happily. 

Work  we  do, 

Study  too, 
For  we  learn  "  twice  two  "  ; 
Then  we  laugh,  and  dance,  and  sing, 
Gay  as  birds  or  any  thing. 

Follow  me, 

Full  of  glee, 
Singing  merrily. 

Work  is  done, 

Play  's  begun; 
Now  we  have  our  laugh  and  fun. 

Happy  days, 

Pretty  plays, 
And  no  naughty  ways. 
Holding  fast  each  other's  hand, 
We  're  a  little  happy  band  ; 

Follow  me, 

Full  of  glee, 
Singing  merrily. 

6* 


66  songs. 


THE  SUMMER. 

A    FREE    TRANSLATION    OF    A    GERMAN    POPULAR    SONG. 

Go  forth,  my  heart,  and  seek  the  bliss 
Of  such  a  summer  day  as  this, 

Bestowed  on  all  by  Heaven  ; 
The  beauties  of  the  garden  see, 
Behold  !   it  is  for  thee  and  me 

Its  glories  all  are  given. 

The  trees  with  whispering  leaves  are  dressed. 
The  earth  upon  her  dusky  breast 

Her  robe  of  green  is  wearing  ; 
The  flowers  are  blooming  far  and  wide,  — 
Not  Solomon  in  all  his  pride 

With  them  would  bear  comparing. 

The  dove  from  out  her  nest  doth  fly; 
Far  upward  in  the  clear  blue  sky 

The  lark  her  way  is  winging  ; 
Hark  to  the  lovely  nightingale  ! 
With  her  sweet  song  each  hill  and  dale, 

And  woods  and  rocks,  are  ringing. 


MSB.  r  , 

The  hen  brings  out  her  little  brood, 
The  swallow  finds  her  young  ones  food, 

The  stork  her  house  is  keeping. 
The  bounding  stag,  the  timid  roe, 
Are  full  of  joy,  and  to  and  fro, 

T:j:c-.:z:"-  ".:.-  :.'_      _ 

The  brook  is  tinkling  as  it  goes, 
And  with  the  myrtle  and  the  re ;  e 

Its  shady  banks  adorning  ; 
While,  from  the  flowery  mead  near     \ 
The  sheep  and  shepherd's  joyful  cry 

Salutes  the  early  morning. 

The  never  idle  troops  of  bees 

Fly  here  and  there,  and  where  they  please 

Their  honey  food  are  quaffing  ; 
The  sap  is  running  up  the  vine, 
Bound  the  old  elm  its  tendrils  twine. 

And  in  the  sun  are  laughing. 

A: id  can  I,  may  I.  silent  be  ? 
When  all  God's  glorious  works  I  see 
Mv  soul  desires  to  know  him. 


68  SONGS. 

When  all  are  singing  I  must  sing, 
And  to  the  Highest  I  must  bring 
The  tribute  which  I  owe  him. 

Are  all  things  here  so  bright  and  fair, 
And  has  he  with  a  loving  care 

My  happy  being  given  ? 
What,  in  the  glorious  world  above, 
Where  all  is  beauty,  all  is  love,  — 

What  shall  I  be  in  heaven  ? 

O,  were  I  there  !  O,  stood  I  now 
In  that  great  Presence  !  there  to  bow 

In  grateful  love  before  him, 
Then  would  I  with  the  angels  raise 
One  never-ending  song  of  praise, 

And  worship  and  adore  him  ! 


TO  A  BEAUTIFUL  GIRL. 

Sweet  flower  !  so  young,  so  fresh,  so  fail- 
Bright  pleasure  sparkling  in  thine  eye, 
Alas  !  e'en  thee  time  will  not  spare, 
And  thou  must  die. 


SONGS. 

The  heart  with  youthful  hope  so  gay, 
That  scarcely  ever  breathed  a  sigh, 
Must  weep  o'er  pleasures  fled  away, 
For  all  must  die. 

But  though  the  rosy  cheek  may  fade, 
The  virtuous  wish,  the  purpose  high, 
The  bloom  with  which  the  soul  's  arrayed, 
Shall  never  die. 


THE  LITTLE  SLAVE'S  WISH. 

I  wish  I  was  that  little  bird 

Up  in  the  bright  blue  sky, 
That  sings  and  flies  just  where  he  will, 

And  no  one  asks  him  why. 

I  wish  I  was  that  little  brook 

That  runs  so  swift  along, 
Through  pretty  flowers,  and  shining  stones, 

Singing  a  merry  song. 


70  SONGS. 

I  wish  I  was  a  butterfly, 

Without  a  fear  or  care, 
Spreading  my  many-colored  wings, 

Like  a  flower  in  the  air. 

I  wish  I  was  that  wild,  wild  deer, 

That  I  saw  the  other  day, 
Who  through  the  dark  green  forest  flew, 

Like  an  arrow  far  away. 

I  wish  I  was  that  little  cloud 

By  the  gentle  south- wind  driven, 

Floating  along  so  calm  and  bright 
Up  to  the  gates  of  heaven. 

I  'd  rather  be  a  savage  beast, 
And  dwell  in  a  gloomy  cave, 

And  shake  the  forest  when  I  roared, 
Than  what  I  am,  —  a  slave. 

My  mother  calls  me  her  good  boy, 

My  father  calls  me  brave  ; 
What  wicked  action  have  I  done 

That  I  should  be  a  slave  ? 


SONGS.  71 

They  tell  me  God  is  very  good, 

That  his  right  arm  can  save  ; 
O,  is  it,  can  it,  be  his  will 

That  I  should  be  a  slave  ? 

O,  how  much  better  't  is  to  die, 

And  lie  down  in  the  grave, 
Than  't  is  to  be  what  I  am  now,  — 

A  little  negro  slave  ! 


P AB L  E  S 


THE  HONEST  BIRD. 

Once  on  a  time,  a  little  bird 

Within  a  wicker  cage  was  heard, 

In  mournful  tones,  these  Vords  to  sing  : 

u  In  vain  I  stretch  my  useless  wing  ; 

Still  round  and  round  I  vainly  fly, 

And  strive  in  vain  for  liberty. 

Dear  liberty,  how  sweet  thou  art  !  " 

The  prisoner  sings,  with  breaking  heart 

"  All  other  things  I  'd  give  for  thee, 

Nor  ask  one  joy  but  liberty." 

He  sang  so  sweet,  a  little  mouse, 
Who  often  ran  about  the  house, 
Came  to  his  cage  ;  her  cunning  ear 
She  turned,  the  mournful  bird  to  hear. 

7 


74  FABLES. 

Soon  as  he  ceased,  —  u  Suppose,"  said  she, 
"  I  could  contrive  to  set  you  free  ; 
Would  you  those  pretty  wings  give  me  ?  " 

The  cage  was  in  the  window-seat, 
The  sky  was  blue,  the  air  was  sweet. 
The  bird  with  eagerness  replied,  — 
"  O,  yes  !  my  wings,  and  see,  beside, 
These  seeds  and  apples,  sugar,  too, 
All,  pretty  mouse,  I  '11  give  to  you, 
If  you  will  only  set  me  free  ; 
For,  O,  I  pant  for  liberty  !  " 

The  mouse  soon  gnawed  a  hole  ;  the  bird, 

In  ecstasy,  forgot  his  word  ; 

Swift  as  an  arrow,  see,  he  flies, 

Far  up,  far  up,  towards  the  skies  ; 

But  see,  he  stops,  now  he  descends, 

Towards  the  cage  his  course  he  bends. 

"  Kind  mouse,"  said  he,  "  behold  me  now 

Returned  to  keep  my  foolish  vow  ; 

I  only  longed  for  freedom  then, 

Nor  thought  to  want  my  wings  again. 

Better  with  life  itself  to  part, 

Than,  living,  have  a  faithless  heart  ; 


FABLES.  75 

Do  with  me,  therefore,  as  you  will, 
An  honest  bird  I  will  be  still. " 

His  heart  seemed  full,  no  more  he  said, 
He  drooped  his  wings  and  hung  his  head. 
The  mouse,  though  very  pert  and  smart, 
Had  yet  a  very  tender  heart  ; 
She  minced  a  little,  twirled  about, 
Then  thus  her  sentiments  threw  out  :  — 
"  I  don't  care  much  about  your  wings,  — 
Apples  and  cakes  are  better  things  ; 
You  love  the  clouds,  I  choose  the  house  ; 
Wings  would  look  queer  upon  a  mouse. 
My  nice  long  tail  is  better  far, 
So  keep  your  wings  just  where  they  are." 

She  munched  some  apple,  gave  a  smack, 
And  ran  into  her  little  crack. 
The  bird  spread  out  his  wings  and  flew, 
And  vanished  in  the  sky's  deep  blue  ; 
Far  up  his  joyful  song  he  poured, 
And  sang  of  freedom  as  he  soared. 


76  FABLES. 


SOLILOQUY 

of  ellen's  squirrel,  on  receiving  his  liberty;  —  over- 
heard BY  A  LOVER  OF  NATURE  AND  A  FRIEND  OF  ELLEN. 

Was  that  the  music  of  the  wind, 

That  whispered  in  my  trembling  ear  ? 

And  can  I,  free  and  unconfined, 

Taste  of  the  joys  that  still  are  dear  ? 

And  can  I  skip  from  tree  to  tree, 

And  fly  along  the  flowery  plain, 
Light  as  the  wind,  as  fleet,  as  free, 

And  make  my  winter's  nest  again  ? 

O,  yes  !  my  joyful,  trembling  heart, 
Tbe  song  you  heard  from  yonder  tree, 

Which  made  awakening  memory  start, 
Wras  the  sweet  sound  of  Liberty  ! 

Dear  Ellen,  many  thanks  I  owe 

For  tenderest  care  bestowed  on  me  ; 

But  most  my  gratitude  will  flow 

For  your  best  gift,  —  sweet  Liberty  ! 


FABLES.  77 

Oft  in  your  gayest,  happiest  hour, 

When  all  your  youthful  heart  beats  high, 

And,  hastening  on  from  flower  to  flower, 
You  taste  the  sweets  of  Liberty, 

The  thought  that  you  have  set  me  free, 
That  I  can  skip  and  dance  like  you, 

To  your  kind,  tender  heart  shall  be 
As  pure  a  joy  as  e'er  you  knew. 

Scarce  can  my  wakening  sense  believe 
The  sounds  I  hear,  the  sights  I  see  ; 

Dear  Ellen,  once  again  receive 
Your  Squirrel's  thanks  for  Liberty. 


THE  PIN,  NEEDLE,  AND  SCISSORS. 

'T  is  true,  although  't  is  sad  to  say, 
Disputes  are  rising  every  day. 
You  'd  think,  if  no  one  did  deny  it, 
A  little  work-box  might  be  quiet  ; 

7* 


78  FABLES. 

But  't  is  not  so,  for  I  did  hear, 
Or  else  I  dreamed  it,  't  is  so  queer, 
A  Pin  and  Needle  in  the  cushion 
Maintain  the  following  discussion. 

The  Needle,  "  extra  fine  gold-eyed," 
Was  very  sharp  and  full  of  pride, 
And  thus,  methought,  she  did  begin  :  — 
"  You  clumsy,  thick,  short,  ugly  Pin, 
I  wish  you  were  not  quite  so  near  ; 
How  could  my  mistress  stick  me  here  ? 
She  should  have  put  me  in  my  place, 
With  my  bright  sisters  in  the  case." 

"  Would  you  were  there  !  "  the  Pin  replied 

"  I  do  not  want  you  by  my  side. 

I  'm  rather  short  and  thick,  't  is  true  ; 

Who  'd  be  so  long  and  thin  as  you  ? 

I  've  got  a  head,  though,  of  my  own, 

That  you  had  better  let  alone." 

"  You  make  me  laugh,"  the  Needle  cried  ; 
"  That  you  've  a  head  can't  be  denied  ; 
For  you  a  very  proper  head, 
Without  an  eye,  and  full  of  lead." 


FABLES.  70 

"  You  are  so  cross,  and  sharp,  and  thin," 

Replied  the  poor  insulted  Pin, 

"  I  hardly  dare  a  word  to  say, 

And  wish  indeed  you  were  away  ; 

That  golden  eye  in  your  poor  head 

Was  only  made  to  hold  a  thread  ; 

All  your  fine  airs  are  foolish  fudge, 

For  you  are  nothing  but  a  drudge  ; 

But  I,  in  spite  of  your  abuse, 

Am  made  for  pleasure  and  for  use. 

I  fasten  the  bouquet  and  sash, 

And  help  the  ladies  make  a  dash  ; 

I  go  abroad  and  gayly  roam, 

While  you  are  rusting  here  at  home." 

"  Stop,"  cried  the  Needle,  "  you  're  too  much, 

You  've  brass  enough  to  beat  the  Dutch  ; 

Do  I  not  make  the  ladies'  clothes, 

Ere  I  retire  to  my  repose  ? 

Then  who,  forsooth,  the  glory  wins  ? 

Alas  !   't  is  finery  and  pins. 

This  is  the  world's  unjust  decree, 

But  what  is  this  vain  world  to  me  ? 

I  'd  rather  live  with  my  own  kin, 

Than  dance  about  like  you,  vain  Pin. 


80  FABLES. 

I  'm  taken  care  of  every  day ; 
You  're  used  awhile,  then  thrown  away, 
Or  else  you  get  all  bent  up  double, 
And  a  snug  crack  for  all  your  trouble." 

"  True,"  said  the  Pin,  "I  am  abused, 

And  sometimes  very  roughly  used ; 

I  often  get  an  ugly  crook, 

Or  fall  into  a  dirty  nook  ; 

But  there  I  lie,  and  never  mind  it  ; 

Who  wants  a  pin  is  sure  to  find  it  ; 

In  time  I  am  picked  up,  and  then 

I  lead  a  merry  life  again. 

You  fuss  so  at  a  fall  or  hurt, 

And,  if  you  get  a  little  dirt, 

You  keep  up  such  an  odious  creaking, 

That  where  you  are  there  is  no  speaking  ; 

And  then  your  lackey  Emery  's  called, 

And  he,  poor  thing,  is  pricked  and  mauled, 

Until  your  daintiness  —  O,  shocking  !  — 

Is  fit  for  what  ?    to  mend  a  stocking  !  " 

The  Needle  now  began  to  speak,  — 
They  might  have  quarrelled  for  a  week,  — 


FABLES.  81 

But  here  the  Scissors  interposed, 

And  thus  the  warm  debate  was  closed  :  — 

"  You  angry  Needle  !  foolish  Pin  ! 

How  did  this  nonsense  first  begin  ? 

You  should  have  both  been  better  taught  ; 

But  I  will  cut  the  matter  short. 

You  both  are  wrong,  and  both  are  right, 

And  both  are  very  impolite. 

E'en  in  a  work-box  't  will  not  do 

To  talk  of  every  thing  that  's  true. 

All  personal  remarks  avoid, 

For  every  one  will  be  annoyed 

At  hearing  disagreeable  truth  ; 

Besides,  it  shows  you  quite  uncouth, 

And  sadly  wanting  in  good  taste. 

But  what  advantages  you  waste  ! 

Think,  Pins  and  Needles,  while  you  may, 

How  much  you  hear  in  one  short  day  ; 

No  servants  wait  on  lordly  man 

Can  hear  one  half  of  what  you  can. 

'T  is  not  worth  while  to  mince  the  matter  ; 

Nor  men  nor  boys  like  girls  can  chatter  ; 

All  now  are  learning,  forward  moving, 

E'en  Pins  and  Needles  are  improving  ; 


5  FABLES. 

And  in  this  glorious,  busy  day 

All  have  some  useful  part  to  play. 

Go  forth,  ye  Pins,  and  bring  home  news  ! 

Ye  Needles  in  your  cases  muse  ! 

And  take  me  for  your  kind  adviser, 

And  only  think  of  growing  wiser  ; 

Then,  when  you  meet  again,  no  doubt, 

Something  you  '11  have  to  talk  about, 

And  need  not  get  into  a  passion, 

And  quarrel  in  this  vulgar  fashion. 

Less  of  yourselves  you  '11  think,  and  more 

Of  others,  than  you  did  before. 

You  '11  learn,  that  in  their  own  right  sphere 

All  things  with  dignity  appear, 

And  have,  when  in  their  proper  place, 

Peculiar  use  and  native  grace." 

Methought  the  polished  Scissors  blushed 
To  have  said  so  much,  and  all  was  hushed. 


FABLES.  83 


LEARNED   FRED. 


FROM  THE   GERMAN. 


0.\e  short  six  months  had  scarcely  gone, 
When,  full  of  all  he  'd  learned, 

Young  Frederick,  that  hopeful  son, 
From  college  home  returned. 

To  his  paternal  roof  restored, 

It  was  not  long  before 
The  learned  man  at  table  poured 

The  treasures  of  his  lore. 

"  Now,"  said  the  youngster,  u  father  dear, 

You  doubtless  think  you  see 
Two  roasted  fowls  before  us  here  ; 

But  I  say  there  are  three. 

11  Atqui  these  roasted  fowls  are  two, 

And  one  in  two  must  be  ; 
Ergo,  —  or  logic  is  not  true,  — 

These  roasted  fowls  are  three." 


84  FABLES. 

"God  bless  your  studies  !  "  quoth  papa  ; 

'T  is  just  as  you  have  said  ; 
This  is  for  me,  that  for  mamma, 

The  third  for  learned  Fred." 


LITTLE  ROLAND. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF    UHLAND. 

Lady  Bertha  sat  in  the  rocky  cleft, 

Her  bitter  woes  to  weep  ; 
Little  Roland  played  in  the  free  fresh  air  ; 

His  sorrows  were  not  deep. 

"My  royal  brother,  O  King  Charles, 

Why  did  I  fly  from  thee  ? 
Splendor  and  rank  I  left  for  love  ; 

Now  thou  art  wroth  with  me. 

uO  Milon,  Milon,  husband  dear  ! 

Beneath  the  waves  art  thou  ; 
For  love  I  have  forsaken  all, 

Yet  love  forsakes  me  now. 


FABLES.  85 

"O  Roland  !  thou,  my  dearest  boy, 

Now  fame  and  love  to  me  ; 
Come  quickly,  little  Roland,  come  ! 

My  hope  rests  all  on  thee. 

"  Go  to  the  city,  Roland,  go  ! 

To  beg  us  meat  and  bread  ; 
And  whoso  gives  the  smallest  gift, 

Ask  blessings  on  his  head." 

Now  great  King  Charles  at  table  sat, 

In  the  golden  hall  of  state  ; 
With  dish  and  cup  the  servants  ran, 

On  the  noble  guests  to  wait. 

Flute,  harp,  and  minstrelsy  now  tune 

All  hearts  to  joyful  mood  ; 
The  cheerful  music  does  not  reach 

To  Bertha's  solitude. 

Before  the  hall  in  the  court-yard  sat 

Of  beggars  a  motley  throng  ; 
The  meat  and  drink  was  more  to  them 

Than  flute,  and  harp,  and  song. 
8 


86  FABLES. 

The  king  looked  out,  through  the  open  door, 

Upon  the  beggar  throng  ; 
Through  the  crowd  he  saw  a  noble  boy, 

Pushing  his  way  along. 

Strange  wras  the  little  fellow's  dress, 

Of  divers  colors  all  ; 
But  with  the  beggars  he  would  not  stay,  — 

He  looked  up  at  the  hall. 

Within  the  hall  little  Roland  treads, 

As  though  it  were  his  own  ; 
He  takes  a  dish  from  the  royal  board 

In  silence,  and  is  gone. 

The  king  he  thinks,  —  "  What  do  I  see  ? 

This  is  a  curious  way  "; 
But,  as  he  quietly  submits, 

The  rest  do  nothing  say. 

In  a  little  while  again  he  comes, 

To  the  king  he  marches  up, 
And  little  Roland  boldly  takes 

The  royal  golden  cup. 


FABLES.  87 

11  Halloo  !  stop  there  !  thou  saucy  wight !  " 

King  Charles's  voice  did  ring  ; 
Little  Roland  kept  the  golden  cup, 

And  looked  up  at  the  king. 

The  king  at  first  looked  angrily  ; 

But  very  soon  he  smiled  :  — 
"  You  tread  here  in  our  golden  hall, 

As  in  the  green  woods  wild. 

"  From  the  royal  table  you  take  a  dish, 
As  they  take  an  apple  from  a  tree  ; 

As  with  the  waters  of  the  brook, 
With  my  red  wine  you  make  free." 

"  The  peasant  drinks  from  the  running  brook, 

On  apples  she  may  dine  ; 
My  mother  must  have  fish  and  game, 

For  her  is  the  foaming  wine." 

"  Is  thy  mother  such  a  noble  dame 

As  thou,  my  boy,  dost  boast, 
Then  surely  has  she  a  castle  fair, 

And  of  vassals  a  stately  host. 


88  FABLES. 

"  Tell  me,  who  may  her  sewer  be  ? 

And  who    cupbearer,  too  ?  " 
"  My  own  right  hand  her  sewer  is  ; 

My  left,  cupbearer  true." 

"  Tell  on  ;  who  are  her  faithful  guards  ?  " 
u  My  two  blue  eyes  alway." 

<c  Tell  on  ;  who  is  her  minstrel  free  ?  " 
u  My  rosy  mouth,  I  say." 

cc  Brave  servants  has  the  dame,  indeed  ; 

But  does  strange  livery  choose,  — 
Made  up  of  colors  manifold, 

Shining  with  rainbow  hues." 

u  From  each  quarter  of  the  city, 
With  eight  boys  I  have  fought  ; 

Four  sorts  of  cloth  to  the  conqueror, 
As  tribute,  they  have  brought." 

u  The  best  of  servants,  to  my  mind, 
The  dame's  must  surely  be  ; 

She  is,  I  wot,  the  beggar's  queen, 
Who  keeps  a  table  free. 


FABLES.  89 

"  The  noble  lady  should  not  far 

From  my  royal  palace  be  ; 
Arise,  three  ladies,  and  three  lords, 

And  bring  her  in  to  me." 

Little  Roland,  holding  fast  the  cup, 
From  the  splendid  hall  he  hies  ; 

To  follow  him,  at  the  king's  command, 
Three  lords,  three  ladies,  rise. 

And  after  now  a  little  while, 

The  king  sees,  far  away, 
The  noble  ladies  and  the  knights 

Return  without  delay. 

The  king  he  cries  out  suddenly,  — 
"  Help,  Heaven  !  see  I  aright  ? 

'T  is  my  own  blood,  in  open  hall, 
I  have  treated  with  cruel  slight. 

"  Help,  Heaven  !  in  pilgrim  dress  I  see 

My  sister  Bertha  stand  ; 
So  pale  in  my  gay  palace  here, 

A  beggar's  staff  in  her  hand  !  " 
8* 


90  FABLES. 

Lady  Bertha  sinks  down  at  his  feet, 

Pale  image  of  despair  ; 
His  wrath  returns,  and  he  looks  on  her 

With  a  stern  and  angry  air. 

Lady  Bertha  quick  cast  down  her  eyes, 
No  word  to  speak  she  tried  ; 

Little  Roland  raised  his  clear  blue  eyes, 
"  My  uncle  !  "  loud  he  cried. 

"  Rise  up,  my  sister  Bertha,  rise  !  " 

The  king  said  tenderly  ; 
"  For  the  sake  of  this  dear  son  of  thine. 

Thou  shalt  forgiven  be." 

Lady  Bertha  rose  up  joyfully  :  — 
"  Dear  brother  !  thanks  to  thee  ; 

Little  Roland  shall  requite  the  boon 
Thou  hast  bestowed  on  me. 

"  He  of  the  glory  of  his  king 

Shall  be  an  image  fair  ; 
The  colors  of  many  a  foreign  realm 

His  banner  and  shield  shall  bear. 


FABLES.  91 

"  The  cup  from  many  a  royal  board 
He  shall  seize  with  his  free  right  hand. 

And  safety  and  fresh  glory  bring 
To  his  sighing  mother-land." 


[Billy  Rabbit  was  a  little  rabbit  which  a  boy  caught  in  the 
woods,  and  gave  to  a  little  girl  of  the  name  of  Mary.  She 
was  very  attentive  to  the  little  prisoner,  gave  him  an  abun- 
dance of  good  things  to  eat,  and  tried  her  best  to  make  him 
happy;  but  all  in  vain.  After  many  attempts,  he  at  last  suc- 
ceeded in  making  his  escape,  and  instantly  disappeared  in  the 
woods.  In  the  course  of  the  day,  the  following  letter,  sealed 
with  a  sharp  thorn,  was  received  by  his  friend  Mary.] 

BILLY  RABBIT  TO  MARY. 

Artichoke  Woods. 

You  thought,  my  dear  Mary,  you  had  Billy  fast, 
But  I  tried  very  hard,  and  escaped  you  at  last  ; 
The  chance  was  so  tempting,  I  thought  I  would 

nab  it,  — 
It  wTas  not  very  naughty,  T  'm  sure,  in  a  rabbit. 
O,  let  not  your  kind  heart  be  angry  with  me  ; 
But  think  what  a  joy  it  is  to  be  free, 


92 


FABLES. 


To  see  the  green  woods,  to  feel  the  fresh  air, 
To  skip,  and  to  play,  and  to  run  everywhere. 
The  food  that  you  gave  me  was  pleasant  and  sweet, 
But  I  'd  rather  be  free,  though  with  nothing  to  eat. 

O,  how  glad  they  all  were  to  see  me  come  back, 
And  every  one  wanted  to  give  me  a  smack. 
Dick  knocked  over  Brownie,  and  jumped  over 

Bun, 
And  the  neighbours  came  in  to  witness  the  fun. 
My  father  said  something,  but  could  not  be  heard  ; 
My  mother  looked  at  me,  but  spoke  not  a  word  ; 
And  while  she  was  looking,  her  eyes  became  pink, 
And  she  shed  a  few  tears,  I  verily  think. 

To  him  who  a  hole  or  a  palace  inhabits, 

To  all  sorts  of  beings,  to  men,  and  to  rabbits, 

Ah  !  dear  to  us  all  is  sweet  Liberty, 

Especially,  Mary,  to  you  and  to'me. 

So  I  hope  you  '11  forgive  me  for  sending  this  letter, 

To  tell  you  I  'm  safe,  and  feel  so  much  better, 

Cut  all  sorts  of  capers,  and  act  very  silly, 

And  am  your  devoted,  affectionate 

Billy. 


FABLES.  93 


THE  OLD   AND   NEW  SHOES. 

"  Good  bye,  get  away,. you  ugly  old  things  !  " 
Said  a  little  boy  once  to  his  shoes  ; 

"  All  stubbed   are   your  toes,  all   twisted   your 
strings, 
You  're  wrinkled,  one-sided,  and  loose. 

cc  But  here  are  my  new  ones,  so  shiny  and  bright, 
They  are  almost  as  smooth  as  my  skin  ; 

How  stiff  they  are,  too  !  how  straight  and  upright  ! 
How  snug  my  feet  feel  now  they  're  in  !  " 

So  saying,  he  gave  to  his  old  shoes  a  kick, 
And  strutted  with  pride  to  the  door  ; 

His  unkindness  had  cut  the  old  shoes  to  the  quick, 
For  nothing  contempt  can  endure. 

"  Master  Frank,  Master  Frank,  stop  a  while,  if 
you  please," 

('T  was  one  of  .the  shoes  he  heard  call)  ; 
u  Our  soles  cannot  bear  such  insults  as  these, 

And  your  pride,  Sir,  will  soon  have  a  fall." 


94  FABLES. 

Frank  stood  still  with  wonder  and  looked  at  the 
shoe, 

But  could  not  see  into  the  matter  ; 
At  last  he  exclaimed, — u  As  they  Ve  nothing  to  do, 

I  suppose,  like  Poll  Parrot,  they  chatter." 

So  he  opened   the  door,  and  walked   down  the 
stairs  ; 

His  shoes  were  too  stiff  to  go  fast  ; 
But  let  us  observe  him,  and  see  how  he  fares, 

How  repentant  poor  Frank  was  at  last. 

His  shoes  wrere  so  smooth  that  he  could  but  just 
stand, 

So  tight,  that  they  pinched  in  his  toes  ; 
He  could  only  sit  still,  and  try  to  look  grand, 

And  remember  he  had  on  new  shoes. 

But  Fido  ran  in,  who  loved  little  Frank, 
And  the  shoes  were  remembered  no  more  ; 

They  began  to  cut  capers,  but  at  the  first  prank 
Down  tumbled  poor  Frank  on  the  floor. 

He  wTas  a  brave  boy,  he  thought  not  of  crying, 
He  said,  "  Never  mind,"  though  in  pain  ; 


FABLES.  95 

He  whistled  to  Fido,  but  there  is  no  denying 
He  fell  down  again  and  again. 

He  went  to  his  bed  with  his  heart  full  of  sorrow  ; 

He  said  to  the  nurse,  —  "I  should  choose, 
If  you  please,  when  I  'm  dressed,  my  good  Bet- 
sey, to-morrow, 

To  put  on  my  easy  old  shoes. 

"  See  how  red  my  toes  are,  and  I  'm  all  black  and 
blue  ; 
I  don't  like  my  new  shoes  at  all." 
"  Ah  !    you  see,"   answered   Betsey,    "  what   I 
told  you  was  true  ; 
Your  shoes,  Master  Frank,  are  too  small." 

His  old  shoes  he  was  glad  in  the  morning  to  see, 
And,  forgetting  his  trouble  and  pain, 

"  How  happy,"  said  he,  "  my  poor  toes  will  be 
To  get  into  the  old  shoes  again." 

The  voice  of  the  old  shoe  now  once  more  was 
heard :  — 
"  Master  Frank,  will  you  please  to  attend  ? 


96  FABLES. 

I  wish,  with  your  leave,  to  say  just  a  word,  — 
'T  is  a  word  of  advice  from  a  friend. 

"  Never  part  with  old  shoes  till  they  part  from 
you; 

Let  your  new  ones  be  always  well  tried  ; 
Old  shoes  and  old  friends  are  far  better  than  new, 

And,  trust  me,  more  worthy  of  pride. 

"  Our  strings  and  our  toes  are  bad,  we  must  own, 

But  they  can  be  easily  mended. 
I  have  done,"  said  the  shoe,  in  a  kind,  easy  tone, 

And  it  gaped  as  the  lecture  was  ended. 

New  toes  and  new  heels  now  the  old  shoes  have 
got, 

New  strings,  too,  their  beauty  renew  ; 
Frank  wears  them  in  peace,  and  has  never  forgot 

The  words  of  the  friendly  old  shoe. 


FABLES.  97 


THE  MONKEYS  AND  THE   BEARS. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF    GELLART. 

The  monkeys,  't  is  said,  once  asked  of  the  bears, 
How  it  was  that  their  nation  so  much  surpassed 

theirs, 
And  begged  that  the  means  they  would  graciously 

tell 
By  which  the  young  bears  were  kept  hearty  and 

well. 
"  Perhaps  it  may  be,"  said  one  of  the  mothers, 
Who  seemed  more  considerate  and  wise  than  the 

others, 
"  Perhaps,"  said  she,  trembling  at  even  the  thought, 
cc  We  give  our  dear  young  ones  less  food  than  we 

ought ; 
We  may  be  impatient ;   I  have  really  some  fears 
That  we  rock  them  too  little,  the  poor  little  dears  ; 
Our  milk  may  cause  fever,  and  their  stomachs  not 

suit, 
Or  perhaps  they  are  weakened  and  injured  by  fruit. 
9 


98  FABLES. 

Perhaps  the  whole  mischief  is  caused  by  the  air, 
And  who  'gainst  this  evil  can  ever  prepare  ? 
In  their  earliest  years,  it  may  poison  instil, 
And  through  their  whole  lifetime  produce  every  ill. 
Perhaps  it  may  be,  before  we  are  aware, 
They  breathe  in  a  pestilence,  borne  on  the  air. 
Perhaps,  for  the  nerves  of  us  monkeys  are  weak, 
In  jumping,  or  leaping,  some  bone  they  may  break 
In  their  breasts."     Here,  for  weeping,  she  scarce- 
ly could  speak, 
And  she  snatched  up  her  little  one  long  to  her 

breast  ; 
With  such  vehement  love   the    poor  victim  she 

pressed, 
That  all  its  complainings  and  troubles  were  stilled  ; 
Alas  the  poor  mother  !  her  pet  she  had  killed. 

Said  the  bear,  —  "  No  longer  I  think  you  need 

seek 
For  the  cause  why  your  young   ones  are  sickly 

and  weak  ; 
It  is  not  the  milk,  nor  the  fruit,  nor  the  air, 
Nor  fault  of  the  stomach,  and  'tis  no  lack  of 

care. 


FABLES.  99 

Your  blind  fondness  it  is  that  cuts  short  their  days. 
How  is  it  that  we  such  multitudes  raise  ? 
As  soon  as  our  young  ones  are  able  to  run, 
We  take  them  out  with  us  to  play  in  the  sun. 
We  take  them  through  floods,  through  heat,  and 

through  cold, 
And  so  they  are  healthy,  and  live  to  be  old." 


THE    END. 


